


Fifteen Years

by scifiromance



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, American Sign Language, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Bilingual Character(s), Bisexual Steve Rogers, Childhood Friends, Coney Island, Deaf Steve Rogers, Gay Bucky Barnes, Happy Ending, Jewish Bucky Barnes, M/M, Meet-Ugly, One Shot, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Romanian Bucky Barnes, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, getting to know each other again, references to other characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26597449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifiromance/pseuds/scifiromance
Summary: Fifteen years is a long time. Steve knows this. In fifteen years he's evolved from a skinny and sickly kid to a well-built and successful designer. Conversely, it's been fifteen years since he moved from Brooklyn to Baltimore and lost touch with his best friend.Bucky Barnes wears fifteen years differently -- with a purple heart, sergeants stripes, and a prosthetic arm. He's seen war and financial difficulties, and for the last three years he's seen the inside of the shooting gallery he's been running at Coney Island.It's just sheer luck and coincidence that they find themselves at the base of the Cyclone. It turns out that though many things have changed in fifteen years, some things are destined to stay the same.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 14
Kudos: 225





	Fifteen Years

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the0dyssey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the0dyssey/gifts).



> I do not own anything Marvel related...I'm just borrowing Steve and Bucky to make them happy, with the Maximoff twins on that bandwagon. 
> 
> A big thank you to the0dyssey for her beta, summary writing skills and all round brilliance. Check out her stories when you've finished here.

Steve Rogers lifted his head enough to glower up at the Cyclone’s hulking frame resentfully...and paid for his pique a moment later when another wave of nausea hit. He had to bend back over the trash can- one last glob of puke and bile landed on a half-eaten hotdog. His nose crinkled despondently, ‘ _ Eugh, gross. _ ’ Why, when his body had finally started going to bat for him, did this rollercoaster still have this effect? He’d been okay on SI’s company retreat to Six Flags...relatively okay. He’d held up for half the day at least.

He sighed, then promptly gagged since it was stupid to take a breath over a trash can. At least Tony wasn’t here to video him chucking his guts this time. He’d also remembered to take his hearing aids out before riding, unlike his maiden voyage on the Cyclone- the feedback from the screams had left him with a migraine. ‘ _ Look, Bucky, I’ve learned some self-preservation! _ ’

His stomach briefly knotted at the thought, then loosened as he pushed his inner twelve year old back. Coney Island, Brooklyn in general really, was just bringing back a lot of memories. He’d known it would when he’d left D.C., and it was a good thing, for the most part. Healing, Sam said- or would’ve said if he’d really talked to Sam before leaping headfirst into the move. 

Something- someone, a hand specifically- lightly brushed his arm and he was yanked out of his lightheaded reverie, snapping his head to the side to see several paper napkins being gingerly offered by said hand. “Ah-” He smiled sheepishly, then was hit by the idea that there might be vomit clinging to those smiling lips, why else would anyone offer? “Thanks.” The blush threatening his cheeks flared out as his eyes followed by the arm to the guy’s face. His...Samaritan was breathtaking, and not just because he still felt dizzy, although, the muscled arm was connected to an equally, toned, lean torso, to which a long-sleeved black t-shirt clung in all the right places. Long sleeves, though? In 90 degree heat with humidity? Unusual choice.

Anyway, that facial structure had been cut with a diamond, framed by dark locks escaping a low bun. Grey-blue eyes peered at him with intent concern. ‘ _ Because you’re bent over a trash can staring at him, Rogers. It's a legitimate concern, duh. _ ’ He hastily claimed the napkins, swiping at his mouth as discreetly as he could. “Thanks for that.”

“Sure.” At least that’s what he thought those very kissable lips said, five o’clock shadow- as attractive as it was- didn’t make lip reading any easier. He was willing to give it a good try though.

Of course, it was with that resolution made that he realised he was still too close for comfort to a damned trash can, the one he’d just been puking in. He straightened and backed up so hastily that he almost fell back on his behind. Napkin Guy had to reach out to steady him. “...Sorry.” He mumbled, ducking his head.

“Not my trash can, pal.” 

Bucky had just been minding his own business, trying to push down his jonesing for a smoke on his break. Most of his colleagues ignored the ban when hunching behind their booths, but he was not passing his stupid Army accquired, lung destroying habit onto Coney Island’s kids. No way. What if one had an asthma attack? So, he’d just smacked on another nicotine patch onto his flesh and blood arm- maybe he’d be able to hold out for not just the working day, but a whole week on these this time- when he’d got a look at that ass on display as its owner was buckled over the trash. The Cyclone strikes again. It might’ve been just a passing thought, but there was something about the guy that triggered his sympathy. And no, it wasn’t just his...impressive dimensions. Maybe it had been his miserable, white-knuckled grip on the can, or the way the sunlight caught his cornsilk hair… Or maybe it was his own mothering complex striking again- Morita would’ve laughed, Dum-Dum would’ve put money on it. 

Anyway, he’d marched over to the guy with a fistful of napkins grabbed from Wanda’s dispenser, on a mission. He’d basically completed it, handed over the napkins, had stopped the guy from falling over himself, he could walk away with a clear conscience. But now the guy was just smiling at him bemusedly, all flushed and bashful, just giving a careful nod to his little quip. Or at him. Huh. He’d thought that might earn him a laugh, or at least a smirk, but no. If anything, the blond’s blush was just deepening, those broad hands reaching back to rub the back of his neck. Not that shy wasn’t a good look on him, but… Maybe he had sunstroke? ‘ _ Or maybe the poor hot chump wants to wash his mouth out after losing his lunch? _ ’ That was enough to make him pivot and march just as surely as before back to Wanda’s cotton candy stand. She’d handed him the bottle of water with a wink before he could as much as reach for his wallet. Sometimes he’d swear that girl was psychic. Lowering his gaze with a blush of his own, he made his way back to the blond as composedly as he could.

Steve watched the guy turn abruptly to go with a sinking heart. Sometimes his stock friendly face when he had no idea what someone had said just didn’t fly. Or maybe he’d been asked some sort of question? Had he left to get the park’s first-aider? That would be  _ mortifying _ \- Suddenly the other man was right by his side, swiftly unscrewing the cap on a bottle of water and then thrusting it forcefully into his hands. “Oh, thanks-”

“Drink.” The guy ordered. Steve was sure that if he could hear the man’s tone, it would be gruff. When he hesitated just for a second, those striking blue eyes stared him down, one dark brow pointedly raised, saying, ‘ _ I’m waiting, punk _ ’ louder than anything his lips might’ve expressed. Half pushing past the sudden prickle of deja vu and half pulled along with it, Steve dutifully took a long swig.

“Good.” Bucky breathed in relief as the dense guy drank like a man stranded in the desert. Jeez, the food and drink wasn’t cheap here, true, but self-care much? Still, watching those lips around that bottle was as sinful as it was satisfying. He probably wouldn’t swoon in his arms now...which was a shame. 

“Thanks.” Steve said with an earnest grin as he finished the bottle, absently signing the word. “I really needed that.”

“Yeah.” Bucky mumbled, belatedly remembering to lift his head. He wasn’t going to make that mistake twice, the guy may well be deaf! He probably hadn’t heard that stupid quip he’d made and he’d been put out, like a jerk. He’d been staying with Clint long enough that he should know better than to ever assume someone could hear. Well, thank Christ some ASL could be done one-handed. Carefully, he held his right hand up to his chest, side on, with the thumb brushing his breastbone. “ _ It’s fine. _ ” 

The blond’s jaw dropped, then he bestowed him with the brightest, beaming smile Bucky had ever seen. It was like the sun coming out. “You can sign?” he asked, that deep voice infused with new warmth as his hands moved fluidly. 

“A little.” Bucky replied, voicing and signing as clearly as he could one handed, his left moving self-consciously behind his back- he saw the other man notice but he made no comment. Maybe one day he’d build a prosthetic capable of ASL, but his current one certainly wasn’t up to the task. His signing had never been the best even before, Clint had gently advised him that what he could dredge up from remembered, cherished, childhood conversations was as much homesign as it was official ASL- a combination only himself, Stevie and perhaps Mrs. Rogers would’ve been able to follow. 

“That’s great!” His grin was undimmed, but turned sheepish as he met Bucky’s eyes. “I really appreciate the help. Not many people would-” He gave a self-deprecating chuckle, grimacing, “-intervene.” 

“Probably not.” Bucky conceded with a wry turn of his lips and a shrug, “Seems like I can’t help myself though.”

The guy’s handsome face creased in a slight frown of concentration before he gave a soft laugh, his expression turning stubborn while his voice carried total conviction. “It’s a great trait to have.”

Bucky sensed he sincerely meant the declaration- he got the distinct impression that the punk would’ve argued over it- but he couldn’t stop his laugh having a dark inflection- thankfully the other man wouldn’t catch it. “Sure it is, pal.” He said gently, even as he began to shuffle away. “Uh...see you around, I guess.” 

Steve’s throat thickened with disappointment, but he tried to hide the irrational feeling- he had no claim on this man after, what, a five minute interaction, if that?- behind a grateful smile. “Yeah, I’d-” He clammed up, hands fluttering nervously for a second before he pulled it together enough to at least sign, “ _ Thanks, again. See you. _ ” 

The other man didn’t seem put off by his awkwardness, but his half smile was fleeting. Steve wondered if his eyes were deceiving him when he decided that smile struck him as wistful, even sad. He didn’t get much time to contemplate it because the guy was making a hasty retreat- but not before flicking his hand towards Steve in salute. A salute. That expression, those eyes,  _ their  _ goodbye… “Bucky?!” he whispered. He felt like his brain was short circuiting- his legs propelled him forward without conscious thought, he almost fell again but pressed blindly on. “Wait!” he gasped out, “Bucky!” The thoughtful stranger would turn back to him and…what? He’d ask, ‘ _ Who the hell is Bucky?’ _ , that’s what, and Steve’s heart would break once more. Yet still, that traitorous, ever hopeful heart was roaring in his ears, demanding acknowledgement. Everything had gone from zero to one hundred, he’d been casually wondering over the guy and now he was  _ convinced _ , would bet everything he had- and he’d done just that by calling out- that this was Bucky. 

Bucky stopped mid-stride as he heard his name- Pietro calling him back from his break? No, it was… He chanced a look back over his shoulder- though he sternly told himself it was wishful thinking- and saw Cyclone Guy standing there, staring right at him, desperately. That pretty blush had drained from his face, he looked like he’d seen a ghost. White-faced as he suddenly looked, the guy also looked braced to fight said ghost, ready to surge forward, his fists clenched at his sides. “Yeah?” Bucky asked tentatively. 

“Bucky?” The blonde breathed, before indeed closing the gap between them in a couple of long strides as he hurriedly pulled out hearing aids from his jeans pocket and shoved them into his ears, clumsy in his haste. “Bucky Barnes?!” he demanded hoarsely, flailing a little when Bucky could only blink at him. “James Buchanan-”

“Okay!” Bucky threw his hands up defensively, eyeing the other man with military-grade suspicion. “Who’s asking?”

“It’s-” His tongue flicked over his lips, “-Steve.” He gulped, Adam’s apple bobbing as he fixed Bucky with intense blue eyes, but conversely his imposing frame straightened, rising to Bucky’s implied challenge. “Steve Rogers.”

“Ste-” A sharp, disbelieving laugh broke out of Bucky’s throat, was Nat pulling something? No, neither she nor his family- the only other people who even knew about Steve- would be that cruel...and the guy’s face had  _ crumpled _ , cornflower eyes huge and shining, his strong jaw clenching. He blinked rapidly, but was still met with this hulk of a man with echoes of his Steve’s face… ‘ _ Oh God.’  _ He made a choking noise, “Stevie?” he croaked painfully, staring  _ up  _ at the guy...at Steve. “My-My Steve?” His voice was wavering, cracking, as if he really was thirteen again. “Steve Rogers?” 

Steve smiled shyly down at him, his hands now awkwardly clasped in front of his huge body. “Yeah, Buck. It’s me.” 

Buck. No one else had  _ ever  _ made a nickname out of his nickname. “Steve…” He was horrified to hear the yearning catch in his own voice, the way tears sprang instantly to his eyes. Blinking them away furiously, he stared at Steve’s feet, running a hand through his hair. “God...how long has it been?” he forced out as he backed up a step, “Fifteen years?” Fifteen and a half next month.

“About that, yeah.” Steve confirmed quietly before a strained smile curled his lips, “I left the day after your bar mitzvah.” 

And hadn’t that hung over him for the whole day? It left him tearful and irritable every minute of the party that Steve hadn’t been looking at him- when he had been, Bucky had made sure to be all smiles, no point making Stevie feel  _ guilty  _ about him when he was already scared out of his mind about the medical trial… “I remember.” He swallowed hard, tensing when Steve shifted from foot to foot. “What happened, Steve?” He hated himself a little for the harsh demand, but, hell,  _ something  _ had happened. He’d pictured Steve all grown up embarrassingly often, but he’d never imagined anything like this. Though with the reality in front of him, blurry memories of Joe Rogers- or more likely photographs of Lt. Rogers in his uniform- came to mind, just as tall and muscled. But the father had been in a war, while the son had been fighting a figurative one in and out of the hospital…

Steve exhaled heavily through his nose. “A lot, honestly, Buck.” Bucky’s gaze was piercing,  _ worried _ , and he felt like the other man was seeing right through him and Steve hastily tacked on his usual explanation for when people saw his medical records or old photos, forcing out a breezy laugh to sell it. “One of the drug trials eventually worked, then a couple of surgeries, and y’know, puberty…”

‘ _ One of…? It was supposed to be one trial! _ ’ “Jesus…” 

Of course Bucky hadn’t been fooled. “It’s just Steve nowadays.” He joked weakly.

“Punk.” Bucky groused, the word and the playful scowl coming to him automatically.

“Jerk.” Steve tossed back joyfully, grinning, but just as quickly as the ease had set in it faded and he was left wringing his hands, looking at Bucky shyly through his lashes, “Listen, Bucky… God, I know it’s-” He took a deep breath, “Can I give you a hug?”

Bucky stared at him for a long moment, then whatever had him frozen cracked. “Yeah.” He said roughly, stretching out his right arm, “Yeah, ‘course. C’mere.”

Steve was tentative at first, but in line with everything Bucky remembered- no, knew of him- once he’d committed he was all in, wrapping Bucky in a warm, all-encompassing hug while Bucky held fast with one arm hooked awkwardly around his improbably broad back. With his face buried in Steve’s shoulder, Bucky was almost overwhelmed with the urge to cry- it was as if the past was repeating itself in a twisted fashion. So, just as he had that day when Steve had left, he pushed back the need with a quip into his good ear, “What the hell are you doing back on the damned Cyclone, Rogers?!”

Steve shook with laughter, the bright sound ringing dizzyingly through his ears. He pulled back from Bucky with that old butter-wouldn’t-melt smile on his face, blue eyes glinting. “If I remember rightly, it was one Bucky Barnes who dared me to ride the first time.”

Bucky snorted, “Well, that Bucky Barnes didn’t fully understand what ‘inner ear problems’ meant, Steve. Which I seem to have learned better than you!”

Steve grimaced, but his tone was unrepentant as he said, “It was for nostalgic reasons.”

Bucky glanced pointedly at the recently abandoned trash can, “How’d that work out for you?” 

Steve met his gaze, “Pretty damned well, I’d say.”

Bucky found he couldn’t look away, not that he really wanted to. “Can’t argue with that.” 

Steve regarded him through his unfairly long golden lashes. “Better not. You know how I get, Buck.”

Bucky laughed, a gravelly rumble that made a shiver run down Steve’s spine. “I do, God help me.”

When the haze of pleasure lifted, anxiety shot through Steve. Maybe Bucky wouldn’t want to tolerate Steve’s prickliness anymore, joking about it aside. He’d heard from several sources that he was something of an...acquired taste. He should leave this on a good note, leave Bucky laughing and, yes, nostalgic. But he wasn’t ready for this to be over. “Are you free?” He subtly glanced around them, but saw no suitably gorgeous people watching them, tapping their foot waiting for Bucky to get bored with his blast from the past. “To catch up I mean?”

“I-” Bucky hated himself for getting flustered, “I’d love-it’s just that-” He glanced surreptitiously over his shoulder at Pietro manning the shooting gallery where he should be right now. ‘ _ Look how far I’ve climbed up the career ladder Steve! Crashed back down it more like. _ ’ He made the mistake though- or moment of clarity- of looking back at Steve’s hopeful face. ‘ _ Oh, to hell with it. _ ’ “Hang on, just give me a minute, ‘kay?” He barely waited for Steve’s relieved nod before turning and jogging back towards the booth. 

Pietro lightly shoved him back towards Steve before he’d gotten the question out. “Why are you here? Go back to your new-” He waggled his brows suggestively, “-friend.”

“He’s-” Bucky started, but no, he was not spilling his guts about his very much not new friend right now, his nerve would go. “I should be-”

“...Getting some?”

“Yea-No! Pietro!” He tugged at his hair, “Will you be okay on your own here or not?” 

Pietro pulled a face, “Why would I not be? You’ve taught me well, boss! And Wanda is right over there!”

“Yeah.” He conceded, “Well, I’ll just be-”

“Go!” Pietro urged impatiently, his accent thickening. With another playful shove and a very deliberate wave at Steve- of course Steve waved back, adorable, infuriating dork that he was- Pietro sauntered back behind the booth. He then flashed Bucky a double thumbs up, “ _ Mult noroc. _ ” 

Bucky felt unexpectedly touched, he knew Pietro was sincere when he lapsed back into Romanian- and he did need every bit of good luck his life had recently lacked right now- but also, what was his life that his wingman was a teen? “ _ Mulţumesc. _ ” He replied gruffly, though he could see from the younger guy’s grin that he took the thanks more sincerely than the almost sarcastic tone implied.

He took the chance to return to Steve. “That’s-” Better to just get it out there. “Pietro is going to cover for me a while longer.” 

Steve’s face neither fell in disappointment nor creased in disapproval, there was only warm surprise- which made Bucky feel more than a little guilty for assuming Steve would judge anybody on their job. “You run the shooting gallery? That was the coolest job to us when we were kids.”

“Yeah, um-” Bucky shifted awkwardly, “I’ve just been trying to get on my feet again, and-”

Steve reached out and squeezed his shoulder, the right one- he was still observant it seemed. “Bucky, it’s okay. It’s great.” He waited for his nod before offering a conspiratorial smile, “So...is it rigged like we always thought, or not?” 

Bucky barked a laugh, even as he levelled Steve with a slight glare. “It’s not rigged when  _ I  _ run it, Steve.” He huffed, “Gotta give the kids the chance to stick it to my asshole boss, and y’know, win what they want.”

“Still got a heart of gold, Buck.” Steve’s grin was soft, even tender. “Hey, that means that when you always used to win, you were beating a rigged game! No wonder the guy was permanently pissed at you!” 

Bucky chuckled darkly, grimacing, a combination that deflated Steve’s glee. “Yeah, always have been a good shot I guess.” ‘ _ Fat lot of good it did me _ .’ He hastily deflected by plastering on his charmer grin, “So, what do you do, Steve?” 

“Oh, um-” Steve stuck his hands in his jeans’ pockets, “I’m in product design. I always wanted to stick to art in college, but I also needed a shot at steady work, so…” He glanced shyly at Bucky, “It’s still creative, and where I’m working now, it’s pretty satisfying too-”

Bucky smiled at him encouragingly, “Any company I’d’ve heard of?”

“...Stark Industries.”

“Stark-?” Bucky blinked at him, “...Wow, Steve. How’d you get in the door there?” He flushed and looked down, “Not that I don’t think you’d be a shoe-in if you aimed-”

“No, I know what you meant.” Steve waved him off, “I kinda applied on a dare, then I...might’ve...gotten heated about the importance of accessibility in product design. Because so many little aggravating problems could be fixed if someone just considered the barriers beforehand-”

“You yelled at your interviewer.” Bucky could only shake his head, laughing, “Of course you did. Only you, Stevie.”

“Well, it worked out for me.” Steve said with an unrepentant shrug. “Tony overheard my rant and hired me on the spot.”

“And you’re on a first name basis with Tony-freaking-Stark too! I repeat, only you, Steve.” 

Steve hunched his shoulders, but smiled self-deprecatingly. “He’s Tony to most people actually, if he decides to latch onto you in all his craziness.”

“And of course he latched onto the crusading product designer.”

“Pretty much.” Steve agreed, finally allowing the praise to sink in. “After all that, I only had five days to move back up here from D.C.”

Bucky lifted his eyebrows. “D.C.? Not Baltimore?”

Steve’s face shuttered, “No. I did my degree at Gallaudet, so...D.C. was home for a while.” 

Bucky knew he’d hit a sore spot somewhere- not that Steve’s move to Baltimore wasn’t still a sore spot for him too… “You back in Brooklyn?”

Steve grinned, “Where else? You?”

“Never left.” Bucky answered before sucking it a breath- ‘ _ It’s like pulling off a Band-Aid. _ ’ “...Except for my tours.”

Steve hesitated, studying his face for cues. “Army?” he finally asked in a neutral tone.

“Yep.” He confirmed, clearing the thickness in his throat. “Sergeant James B. Barnes. Former.”

“Thank you for your service.” Steve said quietly. Bucky was glad to hear that it wasn’t trite coming from Steve’s lips- but then it wouldn’t be, he had to have heard it often enough, his dad having died as he did, before Steve could really remember him. “Wanna sit?”

Bucky glanced over at where Steve indicated- he had  _ not  _ imagined this reunion on a plastic table and chairs under an umbrella sponsored by the Coca-Cola Company, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and he’d always been a beggar where Steve Rogers was concerned. “Sure.”

Steve pulled out a chair for him before sitting himself, elbows resting on the sticky table. It was enough of a squeeze that their knees brushed, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to sit back. “I’ve-” He ran a sheepish hand over his face, “I’ve looked you up on Facebook more than once.”

“Oh yeah? Never created a profile.” He swallowed, “I was SpecOps, at the end.” He said all in a rush. Steve, thankfully, didn’t comment or even raise a questioning brow. “Hey...you wouldn’t be the Steve Rogers whose profile pic is of Flash Gordon, would you?”

Steve gave a wry chuckle, “You know it.”

Bucky swallowed. “I suspected.” He’d looked him up in a moment of desperation masked as curiosity- just released to his parents’ house after rehab and more than a little drunk. He’d clicked on that profile and his heart had swelled when he’d seen all the drawings and paintings posted- then it had broken just as quickly when he’d read ‘ _ In a relationship with Margaret “Peggy” Carter _ ’. He’d clicked off and within the hour he’d been making a tearful ass of himself on the phone to Becca. An incident she’d thankfully never brought up again beyond saying, ‘ _ It just confirms a suspicion I’ve had ever since you came out. _ ’ He gave a watery laugh, “Wasn’t space opera meant to be my thing?”

Smiling at him, Steve just shrugged. “It got a few giggles, and I’ve never got a hang of the selfie thing.”

“You never will, if you keep on saying ‘selfie thing’, Rogers.”

He smirked, “Guess not.” Then he abruptly reached across the table, grasping his right hand. “Bucky, I thought about reaching out to you so many times, especially, God, when everything happened, but-”

Bucky stared down at their joined hands. “And what  _ did  _ happen, Steve? I tried to call you! And Baltimore isn’t so far away! Jeez, I begged my mom over and over to call  _ your  _ mom, and  _ nothing _ -”

“I know.” Steve agreed in a small voice before looking back over at Bucky, gaze both ashamed and pleading. “There’s no excuse-”

“But explain it to me.” Bucky said huskily, “Please, Steve.”

Steve sighed heavily, but nodded, jaw clenched. “The first trial...the one we moved for, it didn’t go well, Buck. Neither did the second in fact. My-My immune system started crashing even harder than before. Johns Hopkins is an  _ amazing  _ hospital and I was so grateful for the opportunity-”

“Steve.” Bucky pushed.

“I was dying.” Steve said bluntly, pressing on through Bucky’s sharp intake of air. “And-And I didn’t want you to see me like that. Please understand, it would’ve made it real for me and I couldn’t-” His voice cracked, “But you didn’t deserve that, I’m sorry.”

“No, I didn’t.” Bucky agreed solemnly. “But, God, neither did you, Stevie.” He hastily blinked away tears as he looked over Steve’s impressive form with fresh disbelief. “What happened?”

“Dr. Erskine.” Steve said simply, a smile pulling briefly at his lips. “He offered me one last roll of the dice and I took it.” He glanced wryly down at himself. “It paid off. I was finally fit for the heart surgeries, but-” He had to squeeze his eyes shut.

Bucky peered at him anxiously, he felt like an asshole, dredging all this up. Why could he never leave well enough alone? “Steve?”

“...Ma, she-” He heaved in a shaky breath, this was still so hard… “She must’ve been feeling off for a while, looking back. She had this nagging cough...but she was so focused on me and…” He swallowed thickly, trying to get the words out steadily, “...it turned out to be lung cancer. She-” He squeezed the bridge of his nose, “She went into the hospital just a few weeks after I got out.” He sniffed, “She was in chemo and I was still in a back brace after scoliosis surgery.”

Bucky was never, ever going to smoke again. Sarah Rogers never had, not with being a nurse and Steve’s lungs being as they had been. He turned his hand in Steve’s, gently interlacing their fingers and squeezing- a poor attempt to make up for his lack of words, but Steve peered at him gratefully and took a deep breath.

“I was fourteen when she... passed.”

“Steve, Stevie, I’m so sorry.” Bucky murmured. He was leaning in so much now that their foreheads almost touched for a moment. Horribly, part of him had been expecting this since Steve choked out ‘Ma’- a sixth sense. “What did you do?”

Steve chuckled brokenly, not quite meeting Bucky’s eyes. “First thing I  _ wanted  _ to do was get on the first train back to New York and turn up at your door-”

The pieces of Bucky’s heart splintered further. “You could’ve.” He whispered, “We’d’ve-I’d’ve...we would’ve made it work-”

“After I’d dropped you like a hot potato? After you hadn’t heard a peep for nearly two years?” Steve leaned back, running a hand roughly over his face. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t fair to even tell you that, let alone-”

“None of it was fair.” Bucky cut in, “We can’t go back and change what happened.” He had a feeling he’d be reminding himself of that even more frequently after hearing Steve’s story. “But you made it, right? You’re okay?” God, he felt crass even asking that right now. 

His answer was a small but genuine smile. “Yeah, Bucky, I’m okay now.” He straightened, shrugging his shoulders, though their hands remained linked. “Went into the foster system, it was, um...pretty rough for the first eighteen months or so, but-” His true, honest smile returned, “I got lucky. I was placed with the Wilsons, and then never looked back.”

Bucky tried to smile back at him, but it hardly expressed the depth of his relief. “You keep in touch?”

“Oh yeah!” Steve enthused, before his face faltered, checking to see that he wasn’t offended- Bucky smiled back his reassurance. “Sam’s my brother from another mother...and father.” He chuckled.

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Dork.”

“Yup.” Steve agreed smugly before his face turned shy as she pulled out his phone. “Wanna see photos?” 

“Of course!”

Steve began hastily flicking through his phone, “Oh, if you want the  _ height  _ of my dorkiness, I know just the picture…” His finger stopped, “This was during my freshman year of college, when I was at the tailend of my growth spurt but before I filled out.”

“Let’s see then.” Bucky grabbed at the phone, and was presented with an informal family portrait. A kindly looking African-American couple, with maybe five years on his own parents, were at the centre on a couch, a pre-teen girl with braids, their daughter, was cuddled against her dad’s side. Their handsome, gap-toothed son stood directly behind them, with his arm around Steve’s shoulders. He could see a lot more of  _ his  _ Steve in this late teen version, his face was still all sharp angles- highlighted by thick-framed glasses- and though he was already a couple of inches over six feet, he was a beanpole, his clothes hanging off him just as much as they always had before. 

“This photo has all the long-term foster kids in it, bar one. That’s Scott-” Steve was pointing to a laughing dark-haired young guy also in the picture, kneeling in frame with a Hispanic youth beside him, “-and Luis. They’re both out in California now. Scott has a daughter, Cassie, I’m her godfather.”

“Couldn’t have chosen better.”

“Thanks, Buck.” Steve mumbled, blushing and catching his eye momentarily before his attention returned to the photo, “And that’s Thor. He just got drafted for the Ravens.” 

“I can see why.” Bucky breathed. He was more into the living, breathing,  _ Steve  _ beside him but Thor would’ve been a sight for sore eyes otherwise. Long, blonde hair and a grin as huge as the rest of him...yeah, not a surprise that guy went into football. 

Steve laughed, “Yeah. His brother Loki is actually the opposite. He was taking the picture, he hates being photographed, prefers to ‘remain mysterious’ apparently. Go ahead and put your number in while you’ve got my phone.”

“Yeah?” Bucky checked shyly, even as he opened Steve’s contacts- he’d know who ‘Jerk’ was. “Thor and Loki, seriously?”

“They also have a cousin, Valkyrie.” Steve’s deadpan delivery cracked when he met Bucky’s dubious gaze, “Okay, it might be Valerie on her driver’s license, but she also might’ve legally changed it.”

“Okay.” Bucky released a puff of hair as he did a mental count. “That means Mr. and Mrs. Wilson had seven teens in their house at one point, wow.”

“They’re the best.” Steve confirmed before resting his chin lightly on his free hand, “Seriously.” He said softly, “Not many people would foster a grieving, Deaf, bi teen long-term, with anger and health issues still to boot. But they went a few steps further and took me into their hearts.” 

Bucky’s brain had short-circuited on the ‘bi’, though he gathered his wits enough in time for his smile to be warm rather than stunned. “Believe it or not, Steve, you’re hard not to love.” ‘ _ God, so much for pulling it together Barnes! That was foot directly in mouth! _ ’ 

Steve’s face turned rosy, his eyes flicking unconsciously to Bucky’s lips. “That so?” 

That...that was a purr! His ears weren’t deceiving him...were they? “Unfortunately stubborn punks are kind of loveable or else they’re stubborn assholes.” He teased weakly.

Steve snorted, “As if you haven’t called me an asshole as often as a punk, jerk.”

“Very true.” He conceded, shifting in his seat. ‘ _ Bullet dodged. _ ’ “And your health? That’s really okay now? I mean, you look...well…”

“I’m as good as I’m going to get.” Steve said with a shrug, “Keeping up my muscle is important for my heart and lungs, so I workout and run. I still need checkups, an emergency inhaler and my flu vaccination, but otherwise…” Another shrug, “Those initial drug trials made my hearing even worse, but that was a known side-effect.” He pointed to the aids in his ears, “I get by. Stark gave me an upgrade.”

Bucky grinned, “Maybe I’ll shell out some of my hard-earned Luna Park cash on his stuff after all, then.” 

Steve’s eyes widened, “Bucky, you’ve let me go on and on about myself and all I know about you is that you were in the Army and that you work here!” 

“Those are the two big things.” Bucky tried to joke, but it fell flat, Steve’s eyes on his face. “Okay…” He took a breath, “The big turning point I guess was dad’s business going belly-up in ‘09-”

“I’m so sor-”

Bucky held up a hand to stop him, “So, I told him and mom pretty plainly to use my college fund to keep us afloat. Better that than to lose the apartment or to dip into their retirement funds or Becca’s college-” 

“I’m sure they argued, Buck.” Steve broke in gently.

“Hell yeah, they argued. Especially when my solution was to join up. They pointed out that if I was too young to drink, I was too young to go to war, and that I’d pretty much have to go back in the closet… They were right about all that.” He grimaced but it shifted to a smile with practiced ease, “But I can be just as stubborn as you when I want to be, and Becca is in college to be a nurse now. Mom and dad are back on their feet too.”

Steve beamed at him, “That’s great!” He hesitated for a moment, “And you? Since you’re out now…?”

“Oh, I’m out for good.” Bucky said huskily, bracing himself as he rolled up his left sleeve. “IED.” He stated baldly.

Steve stared at his prosthetic, wide eyes shining, for a couple of seconds before his gaze returned to Bucky’s face and stayed there. “I’m so sorry, Buck, I-I don’t know what else I can possibly say-” His voice caught guiltily.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Bucky said quietly, “You being here is enough.” He swallowed, “This is why I can’t really sign so much anymore, and I feel bad about that-”

Steve seized his hands then, both of them. “We’ll manage.” He interrupted in that forceful tone that brooked no argument- it hadn’t changed at all. “I don’t care.” He gazed at Bucky unwaveringly, “We’ll be okay now, Bucky.”

“Yeah.” Bucky breathed, the word something like a prayer. “I-I...I’ve got a place to study biomechanical engineering at college in the fall, with a minor in orthotics, that’s making prosthetics. I want to make them so much better for people in the future.”

“You’ll do  _ amazing _ , Buck.” Steve told him with unusual fervour, “You  _ are  _ amazing. I-” He swallowed, stopping himself before he dug a hole too deep to get out of and saying instead, “I’m so glad that I got on the Cyclone.”

Bucky arched a perfect brow at him, “Don’t you mean you’re glad you threw up in that particular trash can?”

Steve jutted his chin out, “Yeah, in actual fact, I am.”

Bucky laughed, the sound light, clear and happy. “You’re one of a kind, Steve. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“Me neither.” Steve flushed, “I mean- I meant that I’ve never met anyone like you either, Buck.” 

“Glad to hear it.” Bucky replied, a little too honestly, though Steve’s smile widened. “Almost as glad as I am you threw up in my trash can.”

“Your trash can?” Steve echoed wryly, then blew out a breath suddenly, “When do you get off?”

Bucky blinked, “Six?” He made an embarrassed sound, “Yeah, definitely six.”

Steve didn’t laugh at his awkwardness, his smile just widened, even as Bucky felt his knee begin to jump nervously beside his own under the table. “I have a bike. A motorcycle. With two helmets.” He cringed and tried again, “What I mean is, I could pick you up-”

“On your Harley with its two helmets.”

Steve gave a start, his knee stilling in surprise. “How did you know it’s a Harley?”

“Maybe the three posters on your bedroom wall once upon a time, pal.”

“...Right.” Steve conceded with a flustered laugh, “Okay, so I could pick you up on the Harley and we could go to dinner.” The next part came out in a rush, “That is if you don’t have plans with someone else.” 

“No plans.” Bucky told him, heart beating in his ears. “No someone.” ‘ _ Here goes… _ ’ “No boyfriend. You’d be it, Steve.”

Steve’s smile was by turns wonderstruck and tender, “You’d be it for me too, Buck.”

“Sap.” Bucky choked on a stunned laugh, rubbing his eyes to check Steve was still in front of him. Yeah, not a dream. “See you at six?”

“It’s a date.” Steve promised. 


End file.
